


Dragon!lock RP

by marvinanddougle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Crack, Dragon John, Dragon!Lock, M/M, Magic AU, Omegle Roleplay, Potential smut later on..., Slash, WIP, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvinanddougle/pseuds/marvinanddougle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a Dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon!lock RP

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Work in Progress. Or at least, it was. It's sort of gone on hiatus for a while now but thinking about picking it up again. Hum!
> 
> This is the result of Omegle (and then e-mail) RP sessions with the lovely [Independentideals](http://www.independentideals.tumblr.com), who begins, taking on John’s role, while I do my best with Sherlock’s.

The noise was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that John wasn’t even entirely sure he heard anything at all. Maybe it was just the noise of some small animal passing near the entrance of his cave. He certainly didn’t think it was a human. Not so soon after the last one. The villagers in the village down below seemed to think that John wanted human sacrifices to eat. The dragon never really had a taste for humans, but to keep up appearances he would spirit the sacrifices away to a faraway kingdom. The villagers still feared him that way, even if he wasn’t the largest of dragons. Actually, he was rather small. Small enough that the human sacrifices were able to ride on his back comfortably, though that was beside the point. As the small noise persisted, he let out a small growl that could almost be taken for a snore and curled up a bit more, letting the tiny noise draw nearer.

Sherlock adjusted the heavy traveling bag slung on his back so that the ties sat easier on his shoulders. He could already catch glances of the shimmering, golden yellow reflections bouncing off the stone walls from where he stood at the mouth of the cave. The soft rumble that emerged from within - from the creature within, he knew - did not phase Sherlock. In fact, his face set with determination, he took several confident steps forward. His footfalls silenced by the special footwear Sherlock had acquired from the village shaman (who happened to also dabble in sorcery), the only noise of swishing cloak and tiny clinks fell on deaf ears, for at the moment, Sherlock’s world had been narrowed down to the vastness that was his mind and the creature that lay before him.

That…was definitely _not_ the footfalls of a deer. Or a rabbit or a mouse, for that matter. It wasn’t the same as the sound of the animals that normally passed by - all quadrupeds except for the birds, which rarely even came down to the ground near his cave. These tiny clinking noises- which would have been inaudible if his hearing was any less than perfect for a dragon - were accompanied by the sound… well, to John it almost sounded like the wind through a tree. Except… He huffed again, frowning as much as a dragon possibly could. The sound blocked off part of the wind. It was solid. Swishing? That meant…. John’s eyes, grayish brown like the earth in the winter, jerked open as he stared down the human moving forward in his cave. He stayed silent, no longer making any noise. No growling, no snoring, no half-asleep huffing. And definitely no speaking. Not until he knew why a human had come to his cave seemingly alone. There certainly wasn’t the usual fanfare that marked John receiving a ‘sacrifice’.

Large, curiously intelligent orbs stared back at him as Sherlock took a moment to marvel at the beautiful and majestic (albeit small) dragon. He had never attended the biannual trip up the mountain for the sacrificial ceremonies, instead, opting to slip down to the riverbank or into the forest to collect herbs and plant samples, and the only exposure he had to an adult dragon was the occasional sighting of the creature in full flight (though from the village’s vantage point, he considered this negligible). His knowledge on the species was limited to folklore and the perfunctory study he had recently taken up. He was, however, able to note the fact that while the dragon’s scales held a natural, dull glimmer, they lacked the shine commonly seen in preening dragons. _Healthy, then, with no prospective mate. Likelihood of encountering additional dragons: close to nil. Stable disposition presumable. Problematic? To be seen._ Sherlock drew himself to his full height before announcing, “I demand you release your newest sacrifice. I realize his plumpness and relative hairlessness you may find appealing but I cannot allow you to consume him.”

The last sacrifice? John pause to remember before stifling back something of a huffing laugh. Ah - _him_. He’d been a rather annoying sacrifice, to be sure i an utter prat who took a good amount of pleasure in picking apart everything John did once the villagers had left them alone. Of course, John didn’t eat him, as this man seemed to believe he had. He’d simply carried him to the next kingdom over, on the other side of the mountains, and dumped him off near a village that he’d taken to leaving sacrifices at the last few years. None of them had returned yet, John reasoned, so it should be a nice enough village where they could make a living. Oh, but that man hadn’t been happy at all when John informed him of this. He’d spent the entire two day journey complaining about how his work was being disrupted, to which John had been quick to point out that it was going to be interrupted anyway. He’d been chosen as a sacrifice, after all. 

The memory brought him back to the present, though. This man obviously wasn’t any sort of knight. He was too skinny and bony. He obviously didn’t have any idea what sort of ‘danger’ he was in. The dragon sat up with a small grunt - he wasn’t old by any means, but the battles he had been in over the years had stiffened and scarred his body - and surveyed the man with an appraising glance. Definitely not a knight. More of a choir boy than anything. But John wasn’t impolite. He didn’t voice his thoughts, but did reply to the man’s demand. “You are too late. He is gone.” About a hundred miles away, John added mentally. 

A dark, uncomprehending frown pulled at Sherlock’s face as he took a step back to look up at the dragon. “What do you mean late?” he asked. He quickly rummaged through the dragon-sacrifice related information stored in his brain and wondered if he had missed any anomalies that could apply here. “Upon reception of the sacrifice,” Sherlock explained, “the dragon dresses the offering for 14 days, after which it is released for another 7 to play prey before the hunt begins on the 21st night. You- you’re not supposed to deviate- Regardless of the individual dragon’s preferences or mannerisms, deviations from this pattern are highly uncommon.. unheard of.” The only records being the scarce instances where the dragon’s fertility was in question - in other words, when there were suspicions of the dragon to be expecting a brood. Sherlock’s gaze shifted anxiously to the little paunch sitting unobtrusively between the dragon’s hind legs. “What have you done with my brother?” he growled.

They’d actually spent time cataloging their habits? Humans were an odd sort. Yes, most dragons were rather fastidious in their schedules, but John wasn’t one of them. The humans were the ones who kept him on any sort of a schedule. John just liked to do as he felt, eating when he became hungry, sleeping when he grew tired. He had a rather easy life as long as he let the humans go through their rituals, which he was happy to do. And that this human had taken so much care to learn that schedule was sort of funny - wait. Did he say brother? Oh dear, this was a bit of a problem. He knew how protective siblings could be, even if he and Harry had fought all through their hatchling years. This human was here to get his brother back, or take revenge. John could hardly let him take revenge, even though he didn’t even appear to have anything to fight with on him. Who came to face a dragon without a sword? Regardless, John thought it was the least he could do to offer to take him to him. “He is gone,” John said again patiently. “Though I can take you to him, if you wish. You won’t be able to return here though.” The dragon didn’t even realize just how sinister he sounded in that moment.

Sherlock let out a cry of alarm and stumbled back as the dragon returned to all four legs and advanced foward. He had considered this possibility but he could not remember what he was supposed to do in the event that it came to realization. Glancing wildly around the dimly lit cave, he began to rapidly reassess his situation. _Gauge distance between walls and to entrance, odds of escaping out into forest? No; high speed universal amongst dragons. Shoes could provide audible cover in forest- No, no! Assess immediate danger! Likelihood of breathing fire - Southeastern Oriental origin: no, strength lies in power and robustness of body; moderate ability to extend claws. Locate immediate cover- there- risk too high, too close to dragon, quick dragon; alternative, die; just GO!_ Sherlock slammed his eyes shut and dived, jerking his torso as soon as the heels of his palms made contact, tucking his legs inside, and jammed the door shut. He scrabbled to the center of the cage before before curling himself in as tight as possible and tensed, waiting.

John looked on in surprise when the man sprung from where he had been previously frozen in place, nearly catatonic. The jump had surprised him - of course it did. Not many humans would actually willingly go _into_ the cage that the villagers had first installed there. Interesting choice, John had to admit. But though the dragon had frozen as well and looked on in surprise as the human tucked and rolled into it, shutting himself up into its apparent safety. Then John just shook his head and turned to observe the human through the bars. “If you were trying to escape then that was a rather stupid move, you know? You already know that I don’t work the same way the other dragons do. Do you really think that I can’t get in there as well?” Standing with a little huff, John turned and moved over to the door of the cage to carefully claw the lock that locked automatically when the door was shut. John had always prided himself on his careful claw-work, bragging that he could slice the petals off a flower without harming the stem. His claws could easily open the doors, which was how he let the sacrifices out once the villagers had left. With quick and deft work, the dragon had the door open in seconds. “See?” He said gently as the door sprang open. “Do you want to go see your brother now?”

Sherlock, who had peeked, then stared on with horror as the dragon momentarily jangled the lock and swung open the door, blinked from underneath his elbow. His heart still thundered, adrenaline still rushed through his veins, and he clamped down on the urge to back further into the cage against the bars. Still, there was something that kept him in place as he allowed himself a moment to study the dragon. _Posture - relaxed and open. Expression - difficult to discern, but in conjunction with tone of voice: bemused, without malice. Almost gentle,_ rumbled a dark part of his brain. Nevertheless, whether it was due to the dragon’s stiffened movements or the weathered scars on his limbs, Sherlock felt his muscles loosen and out of a strange, inexplicable impulse, wriggled his foot and slowly extended a leg towards the dragon.

Bemused would have been an understatement. He’d dealt with scores of sacrifices in his lifetime, but he’d never had one to act quite this oddly. He was clearly frightened, yes, but most tried to run rather than trying to make themselves inaccessible. Even the one who this man claimed to be his brother had tried to run, which was honestly a bit of an amusing sight. But this one was… different, and just not in the obvious ways. In fact, John couldn’t quite put a claw on what made him think so differently about this one. When he extended his leg to John, he just confused the dragon more. What was he doing? What did he expect John to do? His eyes widened as his mind came to a likely conclusion. Did he think John had eaten his brother and planned to do the same to him? The dragon moved back from the cage door quickly and tried not to seem too threatening, as that was sure to be part of the problem. “I mean you no harm, human. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He quickly bowed his head in a polite motion.

Sherlock slowly unraveled the rest of himself and stood up. He stared awkwardly at the retreated dragon as he or she politely apologized. _Gender – still unknown. Irrelevant; paunch unlikely to be holding a brood; not pregnant – character too steady. He, on the other hand…_ Sherlock cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, taking his time dusting and straightening his cloak. _…was completely justified in his actions._ With a final swish of his fluffy, raven-black locks, he strode out of the cage, leveled a look at the dragon, and said, “You just startled me, that’s all.” 

"Of course," John couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped at the statement. Just startled him? Now _that_ was an understatement. He hadn’t seen anyone react that violently in a long time, or in such a skilled manner. The human was clever, John could already tell. He continued to keep his distance from the human to keep the nonthreatening appearance he was working hard to cultivate. Perhaps he could win his trust by explaining just where his brother was, as he was the one that he seemed the most concerned about. He’d come without back up, neither in people or in weaponry, to save him after all. A very noble feat. "Still, I apologize for ‘startling’ you. I should have made it clear before that your brother isn’t here because I did not eat him. I simply took him away from the area. He is safe, or at least he was when I dropped him off."

“Took him away? Where to?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head. He had to wonder whether this was a reoccurring behavior of the dragon’s or whether Mycroft had simply been that unappetizing. Sherlock nearly scoffed before remembering why he had vigorously trekked through the mountain in search of a dragon-inhabited cave. For whatever reason, the people of the village (Sherlock included) never seemed to realize the very real possibility that they or their loved ones were all equally likely to be selected as sacrifice in the annual drawing. He remembered how his stomach had felt as if it had sunk through his intestines and out onto the dirt road when he had caught wind of the village’s newest selection. His heart still fluttered as he recalled the frenzy that followed as he frantically arranged the speediest return back from his expedition. Never before had he feared so completely. “No, I suppose it hardly matters. Take me to him.” 

"It is a two day trip," John warned as he knelt, moving so that it was obvious that he wanted the man to climb onto his back. His shoulders were just the right width for an adult to sit comfortably, and his neck was long and thin enough for a human to securely wrap their arms around for safety and sturdiness. "Though I have a request that I make of everyone who is brought to me. If you don’t mind, I would prefer if you did not return to the village after I take you to the kingdom where I leave the sacrifices. It is just simpler that way, as I’m sure you can imagine. You get a new start at life somewhere else and I don’t have to worry about villagers coming to attempt to slay me." It was obvious from his tone of voice that he’d had that happen somewhere before and that he wasn’t eager to have it happen at that village. He had a nice life there, all things considered.

Sherlock frowned. Admittedly, he lacked any special attachment to the village or its inhabitants. Still, he had grown familiar and engrossed with the vegetation that grew in the surrounding area. He had established contacts at the harbor whom he could rely upon for a smooth voyage out on his occasional explorations. In his haste, he had also left most of his belongings; though, fortunately, he had the foresight to hide away his more prized journals. His years worth of meticulous notes, brilliant deductions, and handsome illustrations would be sorely missed. Starting anew in a new town, with its unique customs, practices, and social norms would be.. _Terribly tedious._ He made a mental note to hound Mycroft once his safety has been secured.

Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up as he registered the dragon’s intent. _How queer. Dragons, as a rule, were very sparse with physical contact, or even close proximity. In fact, very much so. Though this particular dragon had been proving to be rather unorthodox, his or her readiness to allow another creature so close to its wings was… Fantastically fascinating._ He couldn’t help the quiver of excitement as he approached the dragon and very carefully laid his hand on a hard, scaled shoulder. It was surprisingly smoother than Sherlock had expected and yet distinctly stony. He slid his hand down a few inches, feeling the minute, nearly indistinguishable clippings*, before being shaken from his reverie when the dragon shifted. Clasping the shoulder, Sherlock fumbled for a moment as he clumsily hefted himself on. Once he wrapped his arms around the dragon’s neck, Sherlock couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled through his body from the novel sensation of having a body of plated armor beneath him. He locked his ankles.  
 _(AN: *I dont know what to call the overlay of scales. I am fantasy-description illiterate. Apologies.)_

Shifting a bit uncomfortably underneath the human’s hand, John waited patiently for him to finally climb up onto his back. He didn’t want to rush them too much. If they weren’t ready to go then they tended to be more nervous and finicky in the air, which meant more frequent stops back onto the ground. It was just easier to let them get on in their own time. It was only when he’d finally been mounted that John stood fully again, though that didn’t add much height. For such a battle-scarred and tough beast, John was still rather small. Not much larger than a large horse. Waiting until the man had wrapped his arms and legs securely around his neck, John finally moved to leave the cave for the first time that day. In the sunlight, John stretched his wings out fully behind the human, the entire span reaching passed the edges of the cave’s mouth, before he addressed the man again. “Whatever you do, do not let go of me. You’ll fall and I may not catch you in time. And even if I manage to, then you’ll probably wish I hadn’t.” Falling from high distances hurt. John knew that from experience. But getting hit by something before you hit the ground hurt even worse.

As the creature began to move out towards the entrance of the cave, Sherlock clutched on for dear life. Much to Mycroft’s amusement, and despite his incessant prodding, Sherlock had never learned to properly ride a horse. So while a creature, with a mind entirely of its own, moving between his legs wasn’t quite foreign to him, it was just as unnerving. Thus, Sherlock found himself clamping his eyes shut (it was a natural reflex to the blast of sunlight, he reassured himself) when a wonderful rustling and flapping noise caused him to look back in surprise. At the release of wings, he felt his breath rush out of his lungs. Large and strong, they reminded him of when the crewmen set sail at full-mast – that was his favorite part about traveling by sea. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch them, but instead clung tighter at the dragon’s warning.

They nearly always gasped at that, John thought with no small amount of pride. His wings and his claws were his two best attributes, as he didn’t spend the time that most dragons spent preening and shining their scales. If he did then he truly would be a glorious beast. “Ready yourself, human. I’m taking off now.” He didn’t wait for a reply then, taking the tight clinging of the man to his neck as answer enough. He took off at a limping trot as he flapped his wings, trying to get lift. It always took a bit longer for him to get off the ground as it would take most others, given his bulkier appearance. He wasn’t exactly aerodynamic. But after about thirty seconds the wind finally caught under his wings, giving him enough lift to make it off the ground. Then it was only steering, which was simple. In minutes they were up in the air. “Open your eyes if they are shut. You won’t want to miss this.”

(To be continued..)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have not written fiction in like.. what is it, at least 6-7 years? I’ve also never written anything remotely Fantasy-related. Major, major feels for [Independentideals](http://www.independentideals.tumblr.com) for putting up with me and my severe newbieness to the world that is RPing and Fantasy.
> 
> This work is Un-Betaed (except for my perfunctory review before posting).


End file.
